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Trouble the Water
Rich in religious and artistic imagery, "Trouble the Water" is an intriguing exploration of race, sexuality, and identity, particularly where self-hood is in constant flux. These intimate, sensual poems interweave pop culture and history moving from the Bible through several artistic eras to interrogate what it means to be, as Austin says, fully human as a queer, black body in 21st century America.
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96 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 12, 2016
6 people are currently reading
408 people want to read
About the author
Derrick Austin
10 books15 followersDerrick Austin was born in Homestead, Florida. He received a BA from the University of Tampa and, in 2014, an MFA from the University of Michigan. He is the author of Tenderness (BOA Editions, 2021), winner of the 2021 Isabella Gardener Award, and Trouble the Water (BOA Editions, 2016), selected by Mary Szybist for the 2015 A. Poulin Jr. Prize. A Cave Canem fellow, he is the recipient of fellowships from The Wisconsin Institute of Creative Writing and Stanford University. He currently lives in Oakland, California.
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Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews
June 18, 2016
Glory is a strange word. It can mean both praise that one gives to God and others, or it can signify the height of one's own achievement "He had reached his full glory as a writer." The word glory is used liberally in Protestant bibles; in the Catholic bible the word is often replaced with "brightness." All of these senses are applicable in Derrick Austin's glorious debut collection. The book is suffused with brilliance, a light which shines both on God and man, in some of the most rapturously devotional poems ever penned. "Expect a fire to the heart," writes Austin. "He will press His light into our bones and mouths, wear out our simple faces." What makes these devotions even more moving is the way in which they are anchored inside a life at the edge of transformation, where tidewaters meet gulf and the ecological realities of hurricane parties or of men in hazmat suits cleaning the toxic oil spill along the coast. Add to this global uncertainty, the still all-too-common ways in which race ("I can't stand to/ look ahead/ at another dead black boy") and sexuality ("exposing all/ the simple gemlike gears of my erotic life") can imperil us. But these dangers do not triumph. Even in Austin's elegy for Derek Jarman, who died with aids in 1993, there is an abiding radiance. "His soul tarries here." Derrick Austin's poems move through centuries of veneration and devoutness in art, architecture, worship and yes, even drag culture, as a way of affirming the glory and grace of the human condition. Our state of suffering is made holy through faith in a God who, Himself, has suffered on Earth. Describing the effigy of the body of Christ, Austin reminds us that He, too, has "been brought down before--ancient graffiti--/ and had 'love' carved into Him once more." Lest the reader think that this is going to be sweet Sunday school verse, I should say emphatically that this is nothing of the kind. The poems are formally elegant in every way, but they are broader and more inclusive of popular culture and of unabashed sex and sexuality. There is bravery at every turn, and at the same time, this is poetry that reaches back into human history and spirituality, refusing to compartmentalize the body and soul as separate considerations. This is poetry touched by our own image: alive, awake and glorious in every way we hope that art can be.
June 22, 2016
My review of this book appears in Avatar Review: http://avatarreview.net/AV18/category...
July 11, 2016
Touching, Imaginative, Deep, Erotic, Unique & Intriguing! A Beautiful Read! I Loved It!
May 12, 2016
i tried to not read this in one sitting but couldn't help myself. i picked this up on the heels of another collection that read like it might have been written on a 3 day long adderall binge, so i appreciated that you could tell this was written over many years, in many moods and settings, and that the consistency in his writing is his clear eyed seeking and honesty. i was clutching my pearls a bit, it's pretty raw at times, but none of it seemed unnecessary. so much of it being set along the gulf was a nice change from the typical (farm or nyc). great foreward by mary, what a pairing!
Devotions
All night you pace between our bed and another
room in the house, fetching glasses of water
when you mean shots of gin. The candle
doesn't catch your naked body-- a leg, the cut
of stubble-- only the shadow of its leaving,
the whole of you uncontainable like the moon,
its kissable face and its darker chambers.
Mary offers her mangled son, a matchmaker,
from the dollar-store votive by the bed.
(Other nights John the Baptist rolls his eyes at me.)
You're the one who stayed, or
at least never left. You stay because of hard rain,
or dead magnolia on the drive; or is it custom
for the wounded to care for the wounded?
Where are you? I need a solitary room
with you in it. Wall me in. Lie down on me.
Devotions
All night you pace between our bed and another
room in the house, fetching glasses of water
when you mean shots of gin. The candle
doesn't catch your naked body-- a leg, the cut
of stubble-- only the shadow of its leaving,
the whole of you uncontainable like the moon,
its kissable face and its darker chambers.
Mary offers her mangled son, a matchmaker,
from the dollar-store votive by the bed.
(Other nights John the Baptist rolls his eyes at me.)
You're the one who stayed, or
at least never left. You stay because of hard rain,
or dead magnolia on the drive; or is it custom
for the wounded to care for the wounded?
Where are you? I need a solitary room
with you in it. Wall me in. Lie down on me.
Read
June 7, 2016I think reading poetry is like practicing yoga: you just have to do it to being doing it. I miss more because my technique isn't there and I don't necessarily have the training to get the full experience, but the trying, I think, is what counts most. Read some poems. It's good for you. -Sarah
April 14, 2017
“Summertime”
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning
Porgy and Bess. Granddad sang the old blues tune.
I told him my name. The water was burning
when we went to the coast, green and churning
like collards in the kitchen. It was June.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning.
He took worm-colored pills at ten in the morning,
sometimes he wandered off. I’d find him at noon,
streets away, calling my name. Water was burning
from Gulf Breeze to Grand Isle, the Gulf swirling
like vinyl. Egrets blackened the bayou.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning
when we watched the news in the nursing
home: men in white scanned the dunes.
I told him my name, that the water was burning.
He looked through my eyes and sang fish are jumpin. . .
I said his name, washed his feet, left the room.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning.
I told him my name. The water was burning.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning
Porgy and Bess. Granddad sang the old blues tune.
I told him my name. The water was burning
when we went to the coast, green and churning
like collards in the kitchen. It was June.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning.
He took worm-colored pills at ten in the morning,
sometimes he wandered off. I’d find him at noon,
streets away, calling my name. Water was burning
from Gulf Breeze to Grand Isle, the Gulf swirling
like vinyl. Egrets blackened the bayou.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning
when we watched the news in the nursing
home: men in white scanned the dunes.
I told him my name, that the water was burning.
He looked through my eyes and sang fish are jumpin. . .
I said his name, washed his feet, left the room.
A pipe burst somewhere. The record kept turning.
I told him my name. The water was burning.
September 28, 2019
gorgeous, excellent poems.
May 2, 2016
just incredible!<3
May 6, 2016
so many beautiful poems!
April 16, 2019
Luminous, from beginning to end. Possibly my favorite was the first poem, "Tidewater Psalm", which begins:
"By sunset, the crickets' trilling begins
in the airless damp, rich with salt
and the sulfurous fumes the Gulf flags off.
Bristling cattails brush my hands.
The light-crested water rises and falls
like a chest flecked with blonde hairs.
I feel estranged from You."
Or this stanza from "Heaven and Earth":
"Rain connects heaven and earth.
The rivers, stained as if by wine, are indigo.
Flashes stain the skyline's smooth tableau.
Lightning's nimble fingers thread a bow
into the ombre sky and then will sew
new stars into the hem or maybe throw
it all away - how easily bodies blow
apart, warp and weft, wake and undertow."
...This book also includes the sestina "Blaxploitation," which blew me away when I read it - you can read it here:
https://www.poetrysociety.org/psa/poe...
"By sunset, the crickets' trilling begins
in the airless damp, rich with salt
and the sulfurous fumes the Gulf flags off.
Bristling cattails brush my hands.
The light-crested water rises and falls
like a chest flecked with blonde hairs.
I feel estranged from You."
Or this stanza from "Heaven and Earth":
"Rain connects heaven and earth.
The rivers, stained as if by wine, are indigo.
Flashes stain the skyline's smooth tableau.
Lightning's nimble fingers thread a bow
into the ombre sky and then will sew
new stars into the hem or maybe throw
it all away - how easily bodies blow
apart, warp and weft, wake and undertow."
...This book also includes the sestina "Blaxploitation," which blew me away when I read it - you can read it here:
https://www.poetrysociety.org/psa/poe...
September 25, 2020
Primer for Sainthood
So you want to kiss the passionflowers
in his hands, the blooming flies and blood?
So you would fast and serve his meals,
meats and bread, liquors, sweets?
Happily, you say, drunk on the waters
of his smile. And if he does not smile
that day? If out of boredom he says, kneel
and wash my feet, every day you must
drink of this water. Happily, you say. Again
with this happiness. And if he breaks you?
Batters you with his fists? Batters you
like a dorr and hands back your happiness
—a dozen knocked teeth—would you say
Again my lord? What wouldn’t you pay
for an endless night with the god? O you
who would starve for such music,
there is another sweetness saved for those
who wash and bind the wounds, who join the feast.
So you want to kiss the passionflowers
in his hands, the blooming flies and blood?
So you would fast and serve his meals,
meats and bread, liquors, sweets?
Happily, you say, drunk on the waters
of his smile. And if he does not smile
that day? If out of boredom he says, kneel
and wash my feet, every day you must
drink of this water. Happily, you say. Again
with this happiness. And if he breaks you?
Batters you with his fists? Batters you
like a dorr and hands back your happiness
—a dozen knocked teeth—would you say
Again my lord? What wouldn’t you pay
for an endless night with the god? O you
who would starve for such music,
there is another sweetness saved for those
who wash and bind the wounds, who join the feast.
June 20, 2017
I will never not think of honey, water fowl, and golden light when recalling this book. It's gorgeous. Our paths crossed during undergrad, and I love that this book is in the world. There are whispers of Martha Serpas in this collection, which I also love. Of course it is entirely, brilliantly its own.
February 20, 2021
I wasn’t sure how I would feel about this collection when I started it. As I continued to read the collection, I was drawn to how the poet fuses so many things together. He blends art, music, religion, spirituality, mythology and history into the poems. I can see why Brit Bennett recommends this collection. It was her recommendation that caused me to pick up this collection.
January 2, 2022
Reread “TROUBLE THE WATER”. This is hands down one of my favorite books, and I come back to it often, especially when I’m trying to channel excellent writing of the natural landscape. I'm super excited to read his new work “TENDERNESS”.
February 23, 2017
4.5 stars. Absolutely stunning poetry, full of heart and rhythm and fantastic metaphor and wordplay and and and...
I can't suggest this one highly enough. It's very much worth it.
I can't suggest this one highly enough. It's very much worth it.
February 16, 2017
Found the poems to be very effective, but I wanted the poems to be more LGBT.
Sometimes I feel that the poet gets too caught up in metaphor.
Sometimes I feel that the poet gets too caught up in metaphor.
June 7, 2016
I feel like I just got back from a really inspiring and sobering trip (travel not drugs). This is a pleasant adventure with poems, and I especially liked "Persian Blue" and "Dead Gull."
April 26, 2017
everything good i've read about this book is true- one of the best collections of contemporary poetry i've read in a long time.
Displaying 1 - 18 of 18 reviews